A Flower in the Breeze
by Love the Brightest Star
Summary: The first thing he thought when he saw her at the house table on 1st September, 1971 was that he hadn't appreciated how beautiful she was. Her first thought, on the other hand, was, What a bother. But in the end, she was the flower and he was the breeze which picked her up. James and Lily's relationship in a nutshell. Two-shot.


**Hi all! I haven't written a Harry Potter fic in quite some time! Hope this one is good enough :)**

 **Please read and review.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.**

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The first thing that crossed his mind as he let his eyes wander around his house table on the night of the 1st of September, 1971, was that he hadn't quite appreciated how beautiful she was. In the train, he hadn't even looked at her properly, nor had he tried to have a civil conversation with her. He had mocked her. Well, he had mocked her greasy haired friend more, but still, there was no denying his crime. And now she sat, only two seats away, beside his new best friend Sirius, looking so beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, a broad grin on her plump little lips as she conversed with another girl. He didn't even remember what her name was, but at once he knew he liked her, externally at least.

"I will marry her one day," he had said loudly as he passed her by next day. She had blushed, her cheeks going blotchy, but had scowled at him. Maybe she hadn't taken the interaction on the train the first day well.

He learnt that her name was Lily Evans, and that she was muggleborn, but it didn't mean much to him. She had left a lasting impression on his young mind by just walking around with her head held high, that much he was aware of. So when he went back home for Christmas, he asked his mother before he could stop himself: "Mum, do angels have red hair?", for such was the image of her that had implanted itself in his mind. His mother had only laughed, making him blush bright red.

All he knew that he wanted to impress her. He was James Potter. He was spoilt and arrogant. And he always had what he wanted.

But things, it turned out, were not going to be so easy for him. She was different from the rest. None of the things he did would make her like him. When he played pranks on fellow students, others laughed, she frowned. He acted ever so confidently, Peter stared at him in awe, she rolled her eyes. He swaggered and teased the Slytherins, his friends grinned appreciatively, she screamed at him. He acted as if he didn't care. Others liked him, he said, what was wrong with her?

Time went by, James Potter grew older. His days in school went on, crammed with adventures and mischief, but his eyes still sought the redhead who, in his opinion, was becoming prettier with every passing day. She still wouldn't talk to him properly, and the various pranks he played on her and so many others didn't help matters. He couldn't let go of his cocky swagger and smirk, and why would he, he asked himself, when others seemed to like it? Sure, Evans didn't take it well at all, but he convinced himself that she was no different, and was only keeping her admiration hidden. And so he went on attracting the attention of the whole school with his skills, both in Quidditch and otherwise, and his overbearing confidence. But the actual aim of his actions went to nought.

He was civil enough when talking to fellow students (minus Slytherins and people who irritated him, whose numbers were fairly large), and was really caring to his three best friends. He didn't know what came over him when talking to Evans, though. With her, he could not pronounce a word without keeping his hand away from his hair, and all that came out from his lips was snarky comments and pick - up lines. She would snap, growl, even yell and scream, and that would put him on the defensive. There was hardly a day when the two of them did not argue. He asked her out on a regular basis, each in a different manner, from flippant to romantic (or so he felt), from deals to requests, and sometimes, when his patience was weary, they sounded like outright commands. Her answers were always negative, unwaveringly so, and her modes of answer ranged from eye rolls to hexes. His friends could not fathom why he continued this practice when she clearly could not stand the very sight of him, and sometimes, he couldn't either. It felt as if asking her out had become an obligation to him, or maybe, a habit. He could not spend a week without doing it. And so passed his second, third and fourth year, his life a perfect whirl of colours, but one shade stood out distractingly there – red, by the name of Lily Evans.

His fifth year gave his life a new adventure — his successful transformation into an animagus, which had him romping the Hogwarts ground on full moon nights with the other three of his friends. His character suffered very little change; he was still the same — prankster extraordinaire, proud marauder, expert at transfiguration (his skills had only improved in the subject, making him McGonagall's favourite), and sadly, 'arrogant toe rag'. His body was changing with the onset of puberty; his muscles were growing firmer with prolonged Quidditch practices, making his previously scrawny frame better toned, and his height had crossed six feet. Admittedly, he wasn't as tall or as handsome as Sirius, but close, and girls began to flock to him. He dated a fair few, but none of his relationships lasted too long, because in every girl he went out with, there seemed to be something missing, every time. That affected his already withering relationship with Evans in an adverse way; she now considered him a womanizer. He didn't know why he couldn't just be happy with someone else, but sometimes, when he looked at Evans, a small voice in his head told him that any other girl could not be her.

His time, apart from studies and spending time with the rest of the Marauders, was spent in Quidditch, pranking, bullying Slytherins, and ruffling his hair while he stared at the girls by the lake, among whom Evans had to be present, most of which pastimes she did not approve of. She was a prefect, and he was not (not that he had expected the post to be bestowed upon him anyway), and she took her revenge by deducting points from him at every other instance (a habit that Sirius declared was treason).

Then came the disaster that was him bullying Snape after the Defence Against Dark Arts OWL. That apparently acted as the final straw to make Evans' little tolerance of him snap. Snape called her a mudblood, things turned worse than expected. James was genuinely sorry, not for Snivellus (whom he retaliated by taking off his pants in front of half the school), but for the redhead. He tried to tell her so, but she only gave him a frigid glare, not even bothering to speak. And that ended his fifth year, with his friends consoling him on another year of failed attempt at wooing Evans.

It was during the holidays before the commencement of his sixth year that he realised something. It didn't come in a single moment, nor in a day or a week, but eventually, as he missed her presence around him while he relaxed in his home. He had said that he liked Evans. He had believed that he fancied her. But he didn't. He didn't like Lily Evans, nor did he fancy her. No.

He loved her.

The dreams he began having confirmed that. It had not been like that before. Never before did he dream of her smiling at him, speaking tender words to him, and if his subconscious decided to be creative enough, of her soft lips meeting his. Never before had he smiled in his sleep when he saw her beautiful face beneath his closed eyes. Never before had Sirius, who had come over to live with his family after he ran away from his home, complained about him moaning her name in his sleep. And that told him. In Sirius' words, he was completely 'whipped'.

That changed his entire perspective of her. Evans became Lily. Every vision of her, every memory of her that was stored his mind, became a thousand times more beautiful. He could hardly spend an hour without thinking about her. Sirius grew weary of his constant speeches (which had now taken a poetic edge) about the walking, breathing wonder that was her, and his parents looked amused at watching the young lovestruck boy sit staring at the sunset with a glazed look in his eyes. He could not wait to see her.

When he finally saw her again at the Hogwarts Express, he was left staring. He could not understand how he failed to realise how wonderful she was. Earlier he had thought that she was pretty, now she was beautiful. Before, he had considered her lovely, now she was perfect. Nature, he felt, had been especially kind to her all summer; her hair was longer now, reaching her waist in copper waves, and her figure was shifting from that of a girl to a woman. His friends sniggered as he gaped at her, but he didn't care.

Watching her flit through her day became his new favourite pastime, and before long, he knew every detail, big or small, about her. She looked always beautiful to him, even if it was just after waking up, or after slipping face first into the mud in Herbology. Hell, she even looked so lovely when she was angry. Her eyes would burn with a raging fire, and she would never hesitate to take down her opponent single-handedly. James could never get enough of her.

He realised that she did not want him the way he was, and slowly, painstakingly, he began altering himself, removing the negative aspects of his character. He bullied less now, helped more; he played pranks still, but now they were made more for the enjoyment of others than for a good laugh for himself. He was still the same, only better. His friends noticed. Sirius acted disappointed on the surface, but James could see the pride and admiration deep in the depths of his grey eyes. Remus openly approved the changes, and Peter... Well, Peter liked him regardless of how he was, as long as he was James Potter. But he wanted to see how she reacted. She noticed soon enough, and looked puzzled and suspicious. It hurt him a little to think that she wouldn't trust his actions as genuinely well-meant, but he was, after all, in love, and didn't let it daunt him.

He still asked her out, less frequently though, and his proposals became more romantic now, powered by love as they were — from offering her flowers to transfiguring her textbooks to serenading her between classes (the latter, the rest of the Marauders declared, was clearly a nuisance). She continued to refuse, although her rejections were less vehement now. Slowly, very slowly, she began to talk to him civilly, and gradually, a tentative friendship emerged between the two.

The biggest surprise of his life came after his seventeenth birthday, along with his Hogwarts letter. As he opened the yellowish envelope, a metal badge dropped out. He thought that there had to be a mistake; perhaps he had got Remus' letter by accident. But no, it was his; he was Head Boy, and he couldn't believe it. He told Sirius, but his best mate, after a few seconds of shocked silence, thumped him on the back and said with a broad grin, "Well, I think you deserved it, you know. Congrats, Prongs." His parents were extremely happy, tearful even, but he was most anxious to know how the head girl would react; he was ready to bet his entire inheritance that it would be Lily.

He met her at the heads' compartment on the 1st of September. Her eyes grew wide and a muscle jumped in her jaw when she saw his badge. He offered her a nervous smile, wondering whether she would shout at him. But then, she forced a smile and said, "I must admit, that was unexpected. Congratulations." He smiled back, surprised, and thanked her. Perhaps the year wouldn't be so bad.

Being Head Boy only accelerated the refinement of his character. He did not know what had made Dumbledore choose him for the position, but he swore not to disappoint the old headmaster. He completely gave up hexing people unless they attacked him first (Snape being an exception, but then, he never missed a chance to curse him, did he? That git), became more sophisticated and helpful, and stopped running away from responsibility. His pranks, too, became rare and entirely harmless. The proud smile that the headmaster flashed him at times assured him that his efforts were not going in vain.

And she noticed his changes too. They patrolled the corridors together, and she talked to him nicely enough, almost as freely as she talked to Remus. And surprisingly enough, he caught her staring at him quite often; she would blush and drop her gaze if she noticed him watching her. He wondered if at last, she was coming around, but after all those years of rejection, he was afraid of getting his hopes up again.

Finally he couldn't wait anymore; he decided to take one final shot. Hogsmeade weekend was coming, and he decided to ask her out one last time. He had not done so for over six months. This will be the last time, he said. Now or never.

He walked down the Great Hall next day, feeling very nervous. No show this time, no dramatics, just a simple request.

"Lily," he addressed her nervously, "would you — er, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday?"

She blushed bright red, a small smile appearing on her lovely lips.

"Sure, I'd love to." He gaped. Did he hear her right? But she was already walking away, a smile lingering on her lips, with a spring in her step. He regained his bearings.

"I'll see you on Saturday, then," he called after her retreating back. And then he hurried to his dorm and did a victory dance.

He had imagined how dating Lily Evans would be all the years he had spent pining after her. He had had several dreams involving her and him, (some of them none too decent), but the real date surpassed all of them. He had to struggle to focus on what she was saying, because he kept losing himself in the beauty of her sparkling green eyes and luscious lips. After that Saturday in the snowy month of January, his favourite village became even more of a favourite to him.

Every kiss she gave him was a shot of pure nectar on his lips. Her touch was like the lingering drops of dew on grass. Her eyes, which had held nothing but venom in them when she looked at him only a year ago, now shone with affection when they met his. With every word she spoke, every action she took, he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her, even though he wouldn't have thought it possible. Had it not been for the constant casualties of the war outside, he would have believed himself to be residing in heaven.

He told her every day, in words and otherwise, how much he loved her. She smiled, blushing bright red every time, and told him that she liked him. He hoped that there would be one day when 'like' would change to 'love'; he was patient, and was willing to wait.

And she did. She said that she loved him one day. And again. And again. And even when she didn't, her eyes said it all.

His happiness couldn't have been more complete.

The last year of their school life came to a close in the warm month of June. The sanctuary that Hogwarts had been to them was now gone. They were going to face the world; they were going to fight the war. But even in such dark circumstances, he allowed himself to smile wide as he stood with his friends by his side and her in his arms in the place that had been home to him for seven years. Hogwarts had given him so many things - joy, grief, anger, enjoyment, education and love. And as he held her to him on their last day at sunset, he vowed to himself that he was never going to let her go. And no one who dared touch even a hair of her pretty head was going to get away without seeing him. He would see to that. No matter what happened, he would protect her, hold on to her, and someday (which he felt wasn't too far), she would be his. Lily had opened her lovely petals to him; she had bloomed for him, and he was going to drink in every drop of sweet dew she offered him. He loved her, and he was hers forevermore.


End file.
